


Stig-otage

by Tadpole4176



Series: Retirement Trouble [7]
Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Kidfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27647360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tadpole4176/pseuds/Tadpole4176
Summary: What if Top Gear just kept going… until someone thought he needed to retire? And what if Stig thought that was a bad idea?James is going away for a few days, but that's OK because Jeremy and Richard have promised to behave while he's away. Then Stig shows up at the door.
Relationships: Jeremy Clarkson/Richard Hammond/James May
Series: Retirement Trouble [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953919
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Stig-otage

James stood at the door, his suitcase at his feet and a taxi already waiting outside, looking back at his two friends.

“I can still cancel,” he offered.

“We’ll be fine,” said Richard. “You go, do your toy thing, visit your parents, have a good time. It’s not for long.”

“We’ll be fine,” repeated Jeremy, stepping forward and tilting James’s head up to force him to look at Jeremy’s eyes. “We’ll be fine.” He tried to inject some confidence into James.

“Come here,” said James, opening his arms to Richard, waiting for him to come nearer, then lifting him up in his arms. “Be good, Hamster,” he whispered.

Richard squeezed back, then stepped away again.

“Jez.” James folded his arms round the larger man, something he would never have dreamed of even a few months ago. “You too, be good.”

“I’m always good,” shot Jeremy at James’s parting back, just in time for him to turn his head back momentarily.

“And no DIY!”

James was gone.

Jeremy and Richard turned to each other, mischief sparkling in both sets of eyes, though neither of them were honestly rushing out to do anything James would disapprove of immediately, more amused by the possibilities, if slightly lost in reality.

“We should have takeaway,” said Jeremy eventually.

“OOoo, yes!” exclaimed Richard, bouncing over to him enthusiastically. “Which one?”

A knock at the door interrupted them. “What’s he forgotten?” laughed Jeremy, moving to let him in. But the face at the door didn’t belong to James.

It was Stig.

“Stig?” said Richard, looking up at the tall, silent racing driver. “Are you OK?”

Stig nodded, then grabbed Richard and enveloped him in a hug, eliciting a surprised squeak.

“Stig!” squeaked Richard. “Thanks! I’m fine too.”

Stig tilted his head, considering, then moved to hug Jeremy, an action that became somewhat like a wrestling match when Jeremy hugged back. They staggered around the room, aggressively hugging, for several minutes, bumping into furniture and leaving Richard to dive out of the way several times, before Jeremy worked out how to handle it and abruptly let go.

“Thanks, Stig, I feel better,” said Jeremy, brushing his hair back then bending down to rest his hands on his knees, breathing deeply and shaking his head, amused.

The racing driver let Jeremy rest for a moment, then tapped him on the shoulder.

“You’re not just here for hugs?” asked Jeremy.

Stig shook his head.

Richard shrugged. “Charades?”

Stig shook his head again, digging into a pocket.

“What’s that?” asked Richard.

His hand came out to reveal two pieces of paper, which he handed to Jeremy.

“An Audience with Griff Rhys-Jones,” read Jeremy. “Tonight?”

Stig nodded, precisely, pointing to himself and then Jeremy.

“What about Hamster?” asked Jeremy.

Stig held his fingers a small distance apart, then waved the tickets under Jeremy’s nose again.

“You don’t have another ticket?” Jeremy paused, not convinced. “Oooh, he’s not old enough!” He held the ticket out to Richard.

“You’re right, Stig, I’m definitely not going to pass for 15 at the moment, I wonder whose fault that is.” Richard glared at Stig, trying to make a point.

Unperturbed, Stig patted him on the head, then gave him another hug.

Richard sighed. “Thanks, Stig.”

“But I can’t go out and leave him here on his own, Stig. James is away!”

“Jez..” put in Richard, warningly. “How old do you think I am really?”

“Well, either 60 or around 12, depends when I ask you,” responded Jeremy. 

“Hmm, I think that makes me about 35 on average, so I can probably stay at home on my own,” suggested Richard, putting his hands on his hips and eyeing the two men determinedly. “I’m pretty certain that 12 year olds can stay at home on their own anyway.”

“Yes, but if I’m honest you’re mostly around 12, and you look more like you’re 9 or 10, and have a talent for finding accidents. If you were a kid, you would not be the one the parents would leave at home – ever. Probably not until you moved out.”

Richard raised his eyebrows at him meaningfully. “I’m a grown man.”

Jeremy spluttered. “No, Hamster, you’re really not.”

“I’m not afraid of the dark, I promise I won’t attempt any cooking or DIY, what are you worried about?”

“James freaking out,” muttered Jeremy under his breath.

“What was that?” giggled Richard. “James?”

“Yes! OK, I’m afraid something will go wrong and you’ll be hurt and James will be mad and it will be my fault!”

“But it won’t be, Jez,” reassured Richard, stepping forward to rub his tiny hand down Jeremy’s arm. “I’m a big boy, however you look at it. I’m responsible for my own actions.”

“But…”

“I can be in the house on my own for a few hours, Jez,” repeated Richard. “You should take Stig to the show, or he’ll think you’re not grateful that he fixed your dodgy back and knees and so on.”

“I..” Jeremy looked at Stig, who nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” insisted Richard. “Go get ready.”

Stig, apparently satisfied, patted Richard once more on the head, then pocketed the tickets and went and stood by the front door, his arms crossed, completely unmoving.

“In your own time, Jez,” called Richard, before settling down on the sofa and rummaging round for the remote control.

…………………………………………………

Griff Rhys-Jones was good. Getting on a bit, like he should’ve been, Jeremy had to admit, but still very funny and still with some great observation of the world around him. He had Jeremy in stitches, along with the majority of the audience.

Stig, on the other hand, sat at the table, staring at Griff and not reacting in any way.

Aside from when Griff made an off-hand comment about the pointlessness of morse code, which had Stig standing up and clearly glaring at the comic. It wasn’t a big room either, so Griff definitely noticed.

Still, Jeremy enjoyed himself, and no one phoned him in a mad panic, so he was hopeful that Richard had managed to stay out of trouble, and Stig left quietly with him without getting into a fight or anything like that. They did get mobbed for autographs at the exit, but Jeremy guessed turning up with someone as distinctive as Stig was really asking for it. There was one, scantily clad, woman in particular who just wouldn’t go away. An autograph didn’t do it, or a photo with the two of them, in the end Stig physically removed her – shoving her into a random nearby car and closing the door after her as he and Jeremy made their escape.

Stig drove the getaway car. Obviously.

“It’s been a while since I attracted that sort of attention,” commented Jeremy, despite knowing that Stig wouldn’t respond.

Stig held his hand up, in a gesture that Jeremy found very difficult to interpret, and failed to reveal any more before he dropped Jeremy off. He didn’t even wave.

“Bye Stig,” called Jeremy, waving, despite the futility, from his front door. “Hope you had a good time.” As Stig sped away, Jeremy turned his attention to the door, hammering on it in the hope that Richard would save him from having to find the keys.

“Hamster!” he called, grateful that they didn’t have any neighbours as such to be annoyed about it.

The door opened a tiny amount, a big brown eye peering through the crack. “Jez!” he sounded relieved. After a moment longer fiddling about with the door, he finally opened it and let Jeremy in.

“You OK, Hamster?”

“Fine,” he grinned. “As if I’d get into trouble. But you did say not to answer the door on account of not being big enough to defend myself if an army of your haters, or Piers Morgan, or in fact just some regular burglars stopped by.”

“Oh yeah.” Jeremy grinned back. “Good job.”

“How was Griff?”

“Excellent,” nodded Jez. “No idea what Stig was looking for, mind, but it went well.”

“By which you mean no one died?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” agreed Jeremy. “How about you?”

“I chatted to James on the phone, and I watched some rubbish telly,” replied Richard, cheerfully.

“James?” Jeremy’s voice went up an octave.

“I didn’t tell him you were out! I told him you were in the bath.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “In the bath? When do I ever…? Never mind. Was he OK?”

“He was fine, feeling like he was missing out! I convinced him that everything was very quiet.”

Jeremy snorted, leaning back on the sofa. “Come here, let’s watch a bit more of that rubbish telly before bed.” He opened out his left arm, leaving space for Richard to lean against him, as his right hand grabbed the remote and started flicking through channels, eventually settling on Dave.

…………………………………………………

Richard woke up to the sound of the phone ringing, the sun already streaming through the curtains. He sat up in his bed tent, rubbing his eyes and hoping that Jeremy would get to the phone first. Of course, once Jeremy was asleep he tended to be fully committed, so that didn’t happen. Richard groaned and slid off his bed, staggering towards the noise and finally getting his hand to it just as he was certain whoever was ringing would definitely have given up.

“Hello?”

“Hamster!”

“James?” Richard was surprised. He’d easily talked to James for an hour the night before, and he only left yesterday. “Is everything OK?”

“I’m fine, it’s just…” James paused.

“What?”

“The tabloids are after Jez again,” sighed James. “Why didn’t you tell me he’d gone out last night?”

“He was worried about leaving me on my own,” admitted Richard. “I didn’t want you to be worrying too.”

James sighed again. “We’re allowed to worry, Hamster.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to help,” responded Richard, cheekily.

James chuckled. “Fair enough. It’s come back to bite us today, anyway. There are tabloid photos of Jeremy with some scantily clad woman and cries of ‘who’s looking after Richard?’ all over the place.”

“Seriously? How did they even know that you weren’t home?”

“I assume that those people have psychic powers,” grumbled James. “It doesn’t matter really, it’s not me they’re after. They’re likely already camping outside the house, just be careful won’t you?”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” promised Richard.

“Good lad,” said James. He paused for a moment. “Were you OK last night?” he added.

Richard paused, knowing that James needed him to be completely honest. “It wasn’t quite like I thought it would be,” he admitted. “I thought I’d just feel like I normally would, when I was bigger. So, I’d quite enjoy a bit of peace, I’d watch some rubbish, maybe tinker with a motorbike, play some music that Jezza hates…”

“But?”

“I was a bit, sort of antsy,” he conceded, rushing to add, “It wasn’t the same without you guys being here, alright!”

“That’s OK, Hamster,” soothed James. “It’s only temporary, and it’s good that we know now. Though for heaven’s sake don’t mention it to anyone camped outside the door just now.”

“Or Jeremy,” added Richard.

“What about me?” Jeremy appeared, still looking half asleep but apparently stealthily enough that Richard hadn’t even heard him coming.

“Just complaining, as ever,” grinned Richard. “It’s James.” He handed the receiver to Jeremy, wandering off to let the two men talk, off to start up the coffee machine. Jeremy was going to need a coffee once he’d finished talking to James.

By the time the water was boiled and Richard was just debating whether Jeremy would freak out if he poured him a cup, Jeremy was downstairs, drained despite only just having got out of bed.

“I made you coffee,” offered Richard, realising that it was poor compensation.

“I really need a cigarette,” replied Jeremy. “But apparently I shouldn’t go outside.”

“I suppose you could try the attic window?”

“No,” said Jeremy mournfully. “I promised James, and you.”

“We could revert to a lazy day with some crap telly? I could beat you at scalextric? Or you could help me fix my motorbike in the garage?”

Jeremy raised his eyebrows, sceptically, but smiled nonetheless.

“War film?” offered Richard, looking up encouragingly at Jeremy as the smile grew slightly bigger.

………………………………………………

Richard sat comfortably on the sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him and his feet dangling off the end. His right hand clutched his phone as played with it, whilst with his left hand he absently played with Jeremy’s curly hair, twisting and untwisting it and half stroking it as Jeremy’s head rested in his lap, watching Apocalypse Now intently and totally relaxed, despite the day’s events. Outside, from what Richard could gather, things were not so calm. There were still several reporters and photographers camped out on the doorstep, hoping for a glimpse of Jeremy and the opportunity to shout ridiculous things at him. But Richard had decided, this time, that wasn’t going to happen.

This time, no one was going to see Jeremy until they’d got bored looking for him. Even if Richard had to cook all their meals for a week himself, or dress Jeremy up as the Stig to get him out.

Well, the Stig had started all this, so helping Jeremy out was the least he could do, Richard reasoned.

Another text arrived from James, confirming that they weren’t off the hook yet, encouraging them to stay indoors. But they were fine, Richard sent back another text to reassure him, then settled back and tried to pay attention to the film, still not really all that fond of it.

By the time the film ended, Richard was dozing, catching up on the sleep he’d missed because of James’s early morning phone call. He woke up as Jeremy’s head lifted from his lap, his friend getting to his feet and wandering over to the front door, peering out into the rain.

“Don’t give them the satisfaction, Jez,” groaned Richard.

“But maybe they’re right,” said Jeremy. “I did leave you on your own.”

“I’m sixty! You can leave me on my own! They’re just cretins who’re always out for your blood.”

“I still feel bad,” said Jeremy. “It might make me feel better, if someone shouted at me and then I got to tell them off for being a twat.”

Richard laughed, sort of, a brief, hollow chuckle. “Only briefly, it’s not worth the pain. And Andy’ll kill you, they’ve got no evidence of anything at the moment, just a stupid, probably set up photo and everyone knows it.”

Jeremy moved back towards Richard again, reaching down to stand him up on the sofa so that they were closer to looking eye to eye. “I think I feel bad because you didn’t like it,” he told Richard. “Me and Slow took responsibility, and I blew it.”

Richard looked up at Jeremy, letting his breath out slowly as he considered what to say. “I didn’t like it,” he admitted. “I wasn’t comfortable. But,” he held his hand out, before Jeremy could speak. “I didn’t know that beforehand. I told you I’d be fine, I was even keen to try it. I was just as wrong as you.” He grinned. “Maybe I should go and talk to the reporters, about how I misjudged myself?”

Jeremy grinned. “OK,” he nodded, bringing his arms round Richard and squeezing. “We’ll agree not to do that again, and we’ll let the reporters sit outside as long as they like.”

“Well we should, it’s raining for a start,” grinned Richard. “Do you know of a way to seed clouds? Make it rain a bit more?”

“V8 snow maker!” exclaimed Jeremy.

“Hail!” laughed Richard.

“Maybe we should throw in a little thunder too,” suggested Jeremy.

“They won’t know what hit them,” grinned Richard. “Though, does this qualify as DIY?”


End file.
